


the lovetrain rides from coast to coast

by ofjulii



Category: Actor RPF, Titanic (1997) RPF
Genre: 2010, F/M, Post-Divorce (Sam Mendes), Post-Revolutionary Road
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-13
Updated: 2016-04-13
Packaged: 2018-06-02 01:01:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6544087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ofjulii/pseuds/ofjulii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Is it a wonder that when people ask her about love, Leo just comes pouring out of her mouth?</p>
            </blockquote>





	the lovetrain rides from coast to coast

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from 'Sowing The Seeds Of Love', a song by the British band Tears for Fears.

Inevitably, the news breaks. Kate leaves her children at her parent’s house, locks herself up in her apartment in Sussex and manages to lock the door before letting herself take a big, gulping breath of air that won’t be photographed and published in those dreadful gossip magazines. The afternoon sunlight slants through the slatted shutters and reflects off her discarded wedding ring, filling the room with a brightness that once reminded her so much of Sam.

It wasn’t his fault. It was hers. Kate falls in love as quickly as she falls out of love in a vicious cycle that has been repeated _(by her – by herself –)_ too many times. _It’s my fault,_ Kate thinks for the hundredth time, and she feels like slamming herself into the wall when she thinks about what this means for her children, what her children will say about Sam not being around – and, most importantly – what her children will think of her.  

(She wants somebody to love her until the end of time, but she won’t be able to love them forever.)

Leo will already be on his way – she knows that. If she turns on her phone, she’ll be greeted with a jumble of anxious messages from him. But if she turns on her phone, she’ll have to say something, _anything_ to him, and Kate cannot bring herself to lie to her best friend about her wellbeing. She stares at her phone, lying innocently on her bedside table, and thinks _: Maybe I should turn it on; maybe I should just risk it –_ and mentally slaps herself for forgetting about all her friends and all of _Sam’s_ friends and how they’ll try to contact her.

She breaks out of her thoughts when the door rattles. Kate slowly picks herself up to open the door before Leo yanks it open with enough force to yank it off its hinges. _He has his own key,_ she remembers, and almost laughs – but her mouth just curves itself into a bitter smile (even Sam didn’t have his own key for this apartment – no wonder people believed what the gossip rags said about Leo and her). She tries to take his coat; tries to do something other than look him in the eye – but Leo is already pushing past her and shutting the door of her apartment.    

The sight of him standing in front of her, his face marred in gentle concern, makes her want to cry, which is what she does, because she’s can’t cope with the façade she’s been putting on for her children and the paparazzi camping outside her house when she knows he’ll get in trouble for taking time off filming. It comes out as a few quiet sniffles, but it soon morphs into a pathetic half-wail that sounds and feels horrifyingly embarrassing, but it’s Leo with her, so she just rests her face in the crook of his neck and lets him wrap his big hands around her waist.

They stand like that for a long time, Leo a silent but comforting presence – she doesn’t say anything, and he doesn’t offer any words. Kate knows that he always knows what she’s thinking – she might be an actress, but she can never hide from him, because he’s _Leo._ She was always able to hide from Sam, but never Leo – he’ll always know – a blink of an eye, a twitch of the lips, a furrow in the eyebrows, a slight change in her facial expression – and he’ll know what she’s thinking about. So she doesn’t say anything, just breathes in the scent of him and lets him silently wipe hot, sticky tears off her face.

She turns her head to face him, letting herself gently run her hands over the crease in his forehead. He looks so old – new lines around his mouth and shadows below his eyes (she can’t say anything – she found grey hair this morning and spent a good ten minutes fretting over it), and Kate thinks: _when did we stop looking like the fresh-faced youths of the 90’s and started looking like old, haggard, middle-aged people with responsibilities?_  

“Katie –” Leo sighs, sounding as weary as she feels, “– don’t worry about me. Let me worry about you.”

“It’s my job to worry about you.” She says, and by the look on his face, he knows what she actually means by that – _It’s not your job to take care of me, because I am supposed to have a stable personal life with a loving husband and kids._ The taunting _unlike you_ echoes around the room, and she’s surprised he lets it slide.

“Sweetheart, just let me worry about you for once, alright?” He pleads, and she doesn’t have anything to say so she just nods. She lets him pour her a glass of water, lets him fret over her hollow cheeks, lets him wear her favourite apron while cooking them dinner, lets him pick out a suitable bottle of wine, lets him do all of these things because she knows that he’s genuinely trying to do something to make her feel better. He doesn’t pry when she doesn’t tell, only brushing a light kiss on the crown of her head and promising that he’ll be there if she wants to talk.

He stays for the rest of the week, watches The Notebook and Love Actually with her, contacts her family to let them know that she’s doing (fine? okay?) and makes her want to punch him in the face for being so – so _Leo._ She’s uncharacteristically silent throughout most of the week, but she knows he doesn’t mind – in the many years they’ve known each other, Kate has always been the talker. She relishes in the silence, hasn’t realized how much she’s missed shutting off and not caring about the world since Mia. She shuts her eyes when she thinks of her kids. She must be the worst mother in the world – leaving her young kids at their grandparents and not offering them much of an explanation. _I wonder if they still love me,_ she thinks bitterly as she steps out to the balcony to light a cigarette. Smoking is a terrible habit of hers – she’s tried to quit, but she needs that happy feel of nicotine rushing through her bloodstream to have the courage to keep going (especially) at this time.

“You smoke more than you used to,” Leo remarks as he lights his own cigarette, “I don’t remember you smoking this much.”

She snorts. “Darling, you really haven’t been around me for a while, have you?” He ducks his head and sheepishly smiles at her.

“I’m trying to quit, you know.” He tells her, and takes another drag of his cigarette. “It’s bad for the environment.”

“Your health too.” She adds. “I’ve always wanted to quit. Only managed to do it while carrying Mia and Joe.”

He lets out a rueful laugh. “Katie, you’ve never been a heavy smoker.” She can hear the unspoken _until now_ in the air.

“Maybe,” She acknowledges. “They’re still bad for me. They’re as bad as husbands.” This, as painful to say, is true. She craves cigarettes just as much as she craves for husbands.

Leo turns to look at her. “Why do you insist on telling yourself that it’s your fault?” She knows he means no harm, but she’s just _done_ with everything and she can’t stop her teeth from grinding and her fists from clenching –

“Because it is my fault!” She screams. “I married him too quickly and didn’t think about what would happen after that – kept telling myself I was happy until I wasn’t! I divorced him, Leo! _I_ divorced him!” He takes a step towards her and she shrinks back into the wall, wishing and begging and hoping to disappear. “Oh God, please, don’t touch me. Please go away.”

Leo doesn’t reach for her, but doesn’t move either. “It isn’t your fault,” He says quietly, “It isn’t your fault, okay? It takes two people to get married, but it also takes two people to sign a divorce paper. You cannot put all the blame on yourself.” He takes a tentative step towards her and relaxes when she doesn’t push him back.

“You don’t understand,” Kate snaps. “It is my fault. I gave him the divorce papers, okay? I presented them to him. Me.” She points to herself. “The same person who begged to marry him but promptly fucked off after signing the divorce papers.”

“Stop.” His voice is as rough as sandpaper. “He signed the divorce papers. He signed them – and sweetheart, I cannot watch you like this.” He brings her close to her, flicks the cigarette out of her hand and envelops her in a hug. “I know you’re going through a rough and terrible time. I know this is really hard for you, and I just want to let you know that I’ll be there for you – but Katie, you cannot successfully wade through the waters if you keep blaming yourself. Blaming yourself won’t make the situation better – it’ll make it worse.”

He slips his hand in hers and leads her back into her bedroom. “Turn on your phone. Call your parents and your kids. Talk to Sam. Sit down and talk, face to face, about finances, housing, everything essential – most importantly, talk about your kids. Your kids will no doubt be sad and scared of the situation, but remind them that you love them and that you will never leave them, no matter what happens. Can you do this for me?”

Kate sobs into his shoulder. “What did I ever do to deserve you?”

“No – what did I do to deserve you?” He replies affectionately. “Do this for me – and don’t forget – I love you, sweetheart.”

“I know.” She replies. He doesn’t need to say it. “I love you too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on my [tumblr!](http://bishoping.tumblr.com)


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